


Gamzee ==> Be The Hero Of Myth

by Sikadarling



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Greek Mythology - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-30
Updated: 2012-09-30
Packaged: 2017-11-15 09:12:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/525659
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sikadarling/pseuds/Sikadarling
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A re-telling of the classic myth of Perseus and the Medusa.</p>
<p>Err, kind of.</p>
<p>(entry in the 2012 HSO for team Gamzee<3Roxy )</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gamzee ==> Be The Hero Of Myth

Sometimes, during moments of greater lucidity, you wonder to yourself why you gotta be all accommodating and shit.  You were all set to sit your sweet self down and get your miraculous motherfucking chill on with a goblet of the wickedest beverage anyone's seen this side of Mt. Olympus.  Ambrosia ain't got a thing on your elixir.

And then this guy, even though he’s a goddamn delightful host, he goes and harshes your mellow straight up.  He gets to telling you that, hey, to even think about getting past the velvet ropes into this little soiree he's up and throwing, every motherfucker has to bring a gift.  And, well, most of your righteous brothers and sisters are all over that already, bringing in the finest hoofbeasts you've ever laid your lookspheres on.  But that ain't really your bag.  Long story short, you learned the hard way that hoofbeasts and horns don’t play nice together.

You're a reasonable motherfucker, though.  So you ask Mr. miraculous talking snowball-marshmallow what else his gala event could use?  After all, you got quite the surplus of pie and drink back at your hive.

And wouldn’t you know it, your roly-poly brother has just the thing you can up and fetchquest for him.

The request makes you raise one painted eyebrow in surprise.  You sure weren’t expecting to get your murderwhimsy on during your day off.  But hey, if a motherfucker wants a decapitated gorgon head all up and being the motherfucking centerpiece of his shindig, who are you to deny a brother one of the simplest pleasures in existence?

Still, as you heave your heavy metal club up over the side of the cliff, pulling your long, gangly body with your shield strapped to your back up until you lay panting on the ledge, you sort of wish he’d sent you on a nacho run or some shit instead.

Your name is Gamzus, and once you can feel your legs again, you’re gonna go make that Medusa’s head into the bitchtits finest disco ball in all the land.

***

Even though it’s not like you can just whip out and unroll a handy field guide to all the miraculous, monstrous fauna what calls this land home, you’ve heard enough about these gorgon chicks to paint yourself a pretty decent picture of the mental variety.  First off, they’re supposed to be ugly as sin.  So ugly, just one sideways glance from them ladies can freeze a brother right in his tracks.  That always struck you as being a little unnecessary, seeing as beauty is up in the watchorbs of the motherfucker beholdin’ it and all.  Next, they are supposed to be inordinately violent and cruel.  Yeah, you can feel your sisters on that one.  You’d be wicked cranky yourself if people were intent on using your thinkpan as a party piñata.  But the thing that everyone who claimed to survive an encounter with the gorgon emphasized the most was the wild mane of venomous, fanged snakes she sported in place of regular tresses.     

You always just shrugged.  Ain’t a chica allowed to have a bad hair day once in a while like the rest of us?

It make you get your eyeroll on wicked strong just thinking about it, but you gave your word already and you ain’t about to be the motherfucker that spoils the party for everyone.  So, closing your peepers tight and readying the fantastically reflective miracle shield what was bestowed on you to combat the Medusa’s gaze, carefully you press onwards into the monster’s den.

And by “carefully”, you mean you trip over your own legstems after the first step, plummeting down several flights of stairs, landing with a HONK that is ungraceful, even by your own standards.

It takes a short moment to shrug off the internal bleeding before you’re back on your feet and-

Oh shit.

You sure can’t see anything with your eyes shut, but you hear breathing.

_Right in front of you._

Mother _FUCK_.

Alright, alright.  No need to get your panic on, you tell yourself.  You got 3 other senses you ain’t using yet.  Maybe one of them can help you out of this mess.

Slowly, you sniff the air.  Smells like a mixture of animal entrails, blood and wine, emphasis on the wine.  You can’t help but crack a wicked, toothy grin…seems a motherfucker must be having a good old time down here.

Right, you’ve got your shield to protect you, might as well take a little sneak peak just to get a handle on your surroundings.  You crack one eyelid, eyes adjusting to the darkness…

Dear mirthful messiahs, your bloodpusher stops pumping that sweet purple juice through your veins at the very sight of the creature.  Goddamn, all those old warriors weren’t joking, that motherfucker is HIDEOUS.  That huge, bulbous nose, those tiny little beady eyes, and that enormous maw filled with crooked-ass, glittering fangs-

Oh.  You’re holding your shield backwards.  That’s your own, distorted mug you’re gaping at.

Heh.  Now how did a thing like that go and happen?

Curse your whimsical sense of humor, because that dark chuckle what comes out of your throat cuts through the silence like a hot steel knife through a fresh slice of pie.  The even sound of breathing halts instantly, leaving an eerie quiet that has even the little bitty hairs on the back of your neck up on end. 

You’ve gone and woken the slumbering creature up.  Motherfucking great. 

Instantly you tense your shoulders, bracing yourself for some quality-ass action of the martial variety.  You might be the chilliest, illest son of a bitch to slam back the elixir that Argos has ever seen, but that sure don’t mean you’re a stranger to the art of strifefare.  You graduated summa cum laude from the school of subjugulation, minoring in decapitation.  You got this.  You motherfucking got thi-

You’re not entirely sure what sort of noise you were expecting a gruesome hellwitch to make, but you’re pretty motherfucking sure it wasn’t no cute little yawn and hiccup.

It surprises you so much, in fact, that you gotta check out the sweet little monster what made the sound.

And lo and motherfucking behold, that gorgon chick sure ain’t what you had in mind.  At all.  Like, your eyebrows aren’t even on your face right now.

For one thing, she’s a motherfucking cutie-pie: little button nose over full, dark lips…and those eyes…hypnotizing candy-pink like you ain’t even seen before.  And she almost looks human, instead of Alternian. 

Almost, except for the long, curving tendrils covering her head.  You almost thought they were some righteous platinum/pale pink dreads, only they all up and start moving and coiling on their own and you know that hair ain’t supposed to have forked tongues or glittering eyeballs like that.  Wicked fangs, you ain’t sure about, though.  You’ve found some pretty miraculous shit in your own hair from time to time.

Little sis here is propped up on her elbows right smack dab in the center of a pile of smooth, rose-colored alabaster rings.   And from the look of it, she’s giving you the same once-over that you’ve been giving her.  She must like what she sees, cause she flashes you a grin made of razor-sharp fangs of her own. 

It’s the codpiece, you’re sure.  Chicks dig the ‘piece.    

You can’t even think of how to describe this vision what your lookspheres are peepin’ at.  Somewhere between “Motherfucking adorable” and “bloodthirsty”.  If only there was a word for that.

“Kinda rude, dropping in unannounced, disturbing my beauty sleep an’ all, doncha think?”

Hearing that voice sort of turns your legstems all gummy-feeling.  You could probably hear her read the motherfucking census count and you’d get flutterflies all up in your acid-sack.

“Many apologies, chica.  I had no idea a lady was down here trying to get her respite on and all.”  Your voice is raspy and thick in your throat, but it just makes her grin even wider and more fiercely. 

And all of the sudden, those rings she’s been lounging in start to slide against themselves, revealing a stripe of ivory down the underside and…

Those ain’t stone rings, cause you’re motherfucking sure stone don’t undulate like it’s filled with organic muscle like that.  And you’ve seen some bitchtits awesome carvings in your day, but nothing quite as detailed as those iridescent scales…Looks like this lil’ mama is sporting a long, thick serpent tail as the bottom half of her body.

Oh.

_Oh._

Well, you sure can add that to the list of things you didn’t realize was wicked fucking hot on a lady.

She walks- no _slithers_ towards you, moving effortlessly and silently across the stone floor.  Her entire length easily dwarfs your height, and you ain’t known for being short, neither.  From the top of her head to the tip of her tail, she looks _strong,_ like she could fling you against the motherfucking wall without so much as breaking a sweat.  And not that you’re the sort to leer at a lady (okay maybe you are), but you can definitely see the outline of lean muscle along her stomach whenever her chiton rides up.  You find yourself loosening your grip on your weapons as she slides a coil or two of her tail around your midsection, lifting you with ease closer to her face.

“Hey, how come you’re not doing the ‘turn to stone thing’?  Cause that’s a thing I do, you know.  Turn annoying people trying ta get a piece of me to stone when they enter my lair all surprise-like.”

It’s a little hard to breath, since she’s squeezing your ribcage so firmly, but you can’t say you’re not enjoying yourself a bit...But you hope that you’re not about to be the first motherfucker devoured alive for making a bad pun.

“Dunno, sis.  But if I had to give you a guess, I’d say it’s because I was already motherfuckin’ stoned when I got here.”

Well it ain’t every day you meet a monster-chick, but one with a decent sense of humor is probably a fucking miracle all on its own.  She giggles in spite of herself, but clicks her tongue at you all the same.

“Oh, that was baaaad.  You’re lucky you’re cute, though.  Cause these ladies here aren’t nearly as tolerant as I am.”  Sure enough, some of her snakes are busy giving you the dirtiest looks you’ve ever gotten from a hairdo before.  Everyone’s a motherfucking critic.

 She sets you down once more, busying herself with a goblet and wineskin (probably left as a sacrifice to keep the monster from feasting on virginal maidens- something you’d be down with watching, in the right circumstances) before coiling her tail back up as a makeshift seat for you all to be sitting on and having a motherfucking real face-to-face.

“Soooo, to what do I owe the hom-…honor of this visit?”

Oh right, you’re supposed to be harshing the girl’s life-mellow something fierce right now.

“Uhh, hate to say it sis, but I’m supposed to be up and collecting that pretty little thinkpan of yours so I can get into this wicked party.”  Yeah, you’re a little motherfucking ashamed of that, now.

Strangely enough, she just scoffs and rolls her eyes.

“Lemme guess?  You were sent by the great and powerful, King Poy-Polydoctes?  Shit that creep’s been trying to get me to give him head for years!  Let’s just say you def ain’t the first he’s tricked into coming here.”  She gestures around the lair, which, in the torchlight you can just make out various broken and crumbling statues of warriors. 

“They just all come in here charging and waving their lil’ swords around all ‘HAVE AT THEE’ and I’m like chill dude, which of course, they don’t, an’ then I gotta turn’em into stone and well…that’s that.   It’s been a looong time since I’ve actually had a conversation with one a them.“  She sighs a little, shoulders and snakes drooping.  It kinda tears at your bloodpusher, actually.  You know all too well what it feels like to be a lonely-ass motherfucker.

You pat her along her…hip?  Wherever the scaled tail fades away into human flesh.

“Aw, I am motherfucking sorry for that, sis.  Here I am all up being a motherfucking lair-wrecker and harshing your mellow hardcore.  If it helps, there ain’t no way I’m about to try and slice through that neck of yours anymore.,,unless you’re into that shit, I ain’t judging.”  Your somewhat-goofy smile is genuine, something she seems appreciative of.

“Huh.  ‘Not gonna cut your head off’…that’s p much the nicest thing someone’s said to me all week.”

Leaning forward slightly, she presses a kiss to your cheek.  Now that gets the purple goin’ in your face, alright.  Her lips are so soft, and sweet...such a fine-ass juxtaposition to all that solid and sharpness she’s got going on all over.  Ain’t she just motherfucking _made_ of miracles?

“Whaddya say you an’ I share a little of this sacrificial food and drink, and have a little party of our own?  Maybe if you play your cards right, you’ll get some head, after all.”  She purrs and offers you a salacious wink.

You’re not sure, but you think all of them pretty little snakes of hers winked right along with her.

Your name is Gamzus and your about to tap some fine, monstergirl a-

***

“OH MY FUCKING GOD, NO.  DON’T SAY IT, DO NOT SAY ANOTHER FUCKING WORD, GAMZEE.  IF YOU SO MUCH AS THINK ONE MORE LETTER HAVING TO DO WITH YOU AND YOUR WHATEVER-THE-CLUSTERFUCK-EVER THING YOU’VE GOT GOING ON WITH LALONDE’S ECTO BIOLOGICAL MOM I AM LITTERALLY GOING TO VOMIT SO HARD AND PROFUSELY I WILL GODDAMN CHOKE TO DEATH ON MY OWN SPEWING ACIDIC FLUIDS AS THEY OVERFILL THE BLADDERS THAT COLLECT MY DISGUST AND CONTEMPT FOR THIS WRITHING SHITPILE OF AN EXCUSE FOR TELLING ME IN NOOK-BLISTERINGLY MORBID DETAIL ABOUT YOUR FUCKING MOIST-BUCKETDREAMS.”

“Aww, but palebro-“

“NO, DO NOT PALEBRO ME.  EXCUSE ME I HAVE TO FIND WHOEVER GAVE YOU THAT BOOK OF HUMAN MYTHS AND PROCEED TO SHOUT AT THEM SO HARD AND SO LONG THAT I MIGHT AS WELL BE USING THEIR WORTHLESS, FLACCID WASTECHUTES AS A GODDAMN BULLHORN TO ADVERTISE THEIR COMPLETE AND UTTER FAILURE TO BE A DECENT LIVING CREATURE.  NOW PLEASE, DIRECT YOUR WATCHORBS TO ME.  NOTE THAT MY MIDDLE FINGERS ARE RAISED AS I BACK AWAY FROM THIS FESTERING CLOUD OF FLAMING CLOWNSEX THAT YOU HAVE UNWILLINGLY SUBJECTED MY WEEPING THINKPAN TO.”

…You just shrug as your moirail proceeds to do as such.  Hey, you thought it was a pretty bitchtits dream you had last night.  Maybe, one Miss Roxy LaLonde would take to it better.

Speak of the devil, she just logged on.

**tipsyGnostalgic [TG]** **began trolling** **terminallyCapricious [TC]** **at 11:24**  

**TG: sup Gamz?**

**TC:  hEy ThErE cHiCa YoU aInT eVeN gOnNa BeLiEvE tHe MoThErFuCkInG mIrAcLe Of A dReAm I hAd…**


End file.
